Immortalized
by Scriptix
Summary: It wasn't at all what she had planned. But after so many years, didn't they both need to be reminded of life? A Sess/Kag divergence love story, told in drabbles and vignettes. Rated M for later chapters.
1. The Cloaked Warrior

1: The Cloaked Warrior

The monthly meeting was on the verge of wrapping up. For 50 years, he had been meeting his most trusted advisors - of which there were two - once a month, here in Osaka. He did not like this metropolis with its acrid scents and its head-pounding noises. He did not like his human guise. He did not like meeting with these old fools, because nothing was ever said that could not have been discussed in the boardroom at the local branch of his business, Daikin* Industries. He did not like that he actually did like meeting with these old fools, who were his only remaining links with a glorious past that he should have moved on from long ago.

He sat casually cross-legged on a cushion with his knees under the _kotatsu_, even though it was summer and the voluminous cloth of the table had been long stored away. His apartment, though moderately large and occupying a modern building, was decorated with a simplicity that married traditional elements with newer Western items. There were two main rooms: a traditional one in which he entertained guests (namely Jaken and Myouga) and another which was considered the 'living' room, with a television and comfortable seating and a coffee table decorated (if you could call it that) with a few magazines. If you looked closely, the magazines were all at least ten years old. It had been a fit of melancholy that had moved him to add furniture and belongings to the room. An attempt to make it look lived in, like he belonged there. He did not often spend time in the living room, moving instead between his study and his bedroom.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, did you hear that new rumor?" his retainer, Jaken, began after a comfortable silence. They kept their talk to simple business and rumor, and never turned the conversation to the past, which they could not redo and could not revisit. He sipped his green tea (the imp would drink no other), and absorbed the irritated stare of his lord and employer.

"No," he said, "But I will hear it."

"There is talk of a fierce warrior that is terrorizing the city," Jaken quickly continued. He didn't wish to be cut in half again. "He seems to be killing the more…unsavory elements of the city, my Lord. By night. Humans and _youkai_ alike."

"Master Sesshoumaru, shall I go later and see what I can find out?" Myouga asked, eager to be on assignment. They did not talk of the past, but Myouga thought of it all the time, the glory days when he had roamed Japan gathering rumors of shards for InuYasha and Kagome, that powerful couple, who fought for right and good and cleansed Japan of evil.

"Hn," Sesshoumaru said, and the ancient flea youkai, who should have taken his last sip of blood and drifted away on the wind many years hence, took this as consent. Their lord rose and left the room, knowing that Jaken and Myouga could figure out where the door was, as it was the same door they had exited from for the last fifty years.

By the time he got out of a shower, his two old retainers were gone and the sun had set. The shadows draped across the furniture in the living room when he peeked in, but Sesshoumaru's amber eyes easily dissected them. The single-curve chaise lounge with its single pillow for comfort. The matching sofa allowed two cushions. A_ kotatsu_. Tall shelving that was empty except for a few books. The shoji screens that covered the windows. It was a peaceful room in neutral tones, light and airy and uncluttered except for those few old magazines.

It felt empty.

Sesshoumaru dressed and slipped on his shoes. He was going to do what he always did on the nights he knew sleep would not come to him. He did not notice that those nights tended to coincide with the days he met with Jaken and Myouga. The two faithful retainers carefully avoided remember-whens and the honorable Sesshoumaru pretended to forget that they had ever been.

He walked the streets of Osaka, not bothering to look up at the skyscrapers and other modern buildings that were now more numerous than the trees of the past, crowding the city. He kept his gaze steadily ahead and did not stop for traffic lights.

The next week, Myouga reported that he had been unable to see the warrior in action (the other two silently chalked it up to cowardice), but had gathered information. The warrior was almost seven feet tall, it was said. He fought with twin blades to devastating effect. He wore a heavy cloak and looked like Death himself. He deliberately hunted down the evil in the city and executed it. The yakuza were in a terror. Evil low-level youkai without concealment spells were retreating from the city in droves. The seething underground was in turmoil.

After they were gone, Sesshoumaru showered and began to roam. He thought about this cloaked warrior as he walked the streets. He had seen a ninja movie or two, decades ago before the ennui had buried him, and the image of the cloaked warrior amused him, though not enough to lift his lips in a smirk. The youkai that were fleeing the city would surely take up residence in some other city with access to the worthless humans of the night now. They had emigrated to Osaka from Tokyo, fleeing the bright consuming light that had flared there almost twenty-five years ago, incinerating all the rabble youkai within a half-mile radius of ground zero.

Sesshoumaru had not bothered to investigate. At one time, when he still had a title, when he still had a kingdom, or even when he still had self-respect, he most definitely would have, as something so dangerous to youkai should not be allowed to continue. But he had not, and it wasn't long before the light had vanished from the world.

It was later, when the night sky began to long for dawn, that the scent of youkai blood split the air, calling to him. And when at last he came upon the battle, the cloaked warrior was not wearing a cloak, and was closer to five feet than to seven, and was not in fact male at all.


	2. Living Legend

Disclaimer: All Inuyasha characters are owned by Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media, and any franchisees.

200 words.

#2: Living Legend

Once upon a time, there was a _youkai_ warlord. He ate, drank, and slept the dream of more power. He slaughtered human armies for the simple crime of being in his way. He battled his closest kin relentlessly for the possession of their father's killing sword. He esteemed himself above all others, and yet it was not enough to satisfy him. If only he had more land, more _youki_, more servants, more something.

Injured badly after a skirmish with his bastard half-brother, he lay on the forest floor and strained to heal his flesh. Later, he revived and adopted the human child that had come to him in his convalescence, offering food and smiling her gapped-tooth smile.

The years passed swiftly and unkindly. He built her a beautiful castle on a mountain near the sea and planted fields of flowers on the hills. As she aged, he wandered less and played in the sand more. As she aged, she loved him in ways that he could not understand and in ways that she could not put to words.

After the long sleep claimed his elderly human ward, he tore her beautiful castle down stone by plank with his bare hands.


	3. Exodus

Disclaimer: Inuyasha trademark and characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.

Exodus

_1981_

In the dusk of the last millennium, during the late hours of a rainy July night, a soft pink light emerged from its protective shell. Though the light emanated from the modern city of Tokyo, it was felt, in varying degrees, by _youkai _throughout the whole of Japan. From north Wakkanai to southwest Kagoshima, across the sea to Daegu, South Korea, sleeping ones rolled over, disoriented, sure that there had been _something _pinging their sleep-dulled senses. Those who were awake looked toward Tokyo. Something in the fabric of existence had shifted. To those with evil hearts within a few miles' radius of the epicenter, the pink light had the effect of an atomic bomb. In that moment, they disintegrated upon being bathed in the uncontrolled power.

The exodus had only just begun.

Tomorrow, realtors would look on in confusion as hundreds of thousands of apartments, townhouses, and private residences were put on the market. Businesses ranging from flower stands to international conglomerates would close their doors, stating their intention to look elsewhere for their livelihood. Harajuku, that diverse, modern cultural center of the city, would empty overnight. Hundreds of government administrative posts would be forsaken, as the elected begged release for health reasons. Nearly 300,000 desks would find themselves bereft of the students they were used to holding.

The human population would be left blinking in the aftermath as every concealed _youkai _inhabitant of the Tokyo Metropolitan Area suddenly found it imperative to locate themselves elsewhere.

Higurashi-san, in those first few minutes, looked down at the tiny wrapped bundle held securely in his wife's arms. Though he was an ordained Shinto priest employed at his ancient family shrine, he was completely unaware of the turmoil the tiny bundle had caused the city in her first few moments of life. He possessed approximately as much spiritual power as his father before him. He had read of the turmoil she would cause, had caused, in the distant past, not knowing, never knowing, that it was her. He spared not a thought for the distant future.

His first child. A beautiful, precious daughter.


	4. Collision

Disclaimer: Inuyasha trademark and characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.

Collision

Since he left his apartment, he has been trudging on without purpose. That is not a metaphor for his life unless you want it to be. His limbs are tired; it's been nearly a week since sleep claimed him.

He smells the blood a mile away. This is on no account hyperbole. He does not rush; he has never rushed. He continues in the direction of the bleeding _youkai _at the same unhurried pace he has maintained all night.

One last corner, and then he is upon them; one _youkai_ corpse and one human girl.

"The hanyou's miko." An oxymoron.

100 words.


	5. Escape

Escape

Icy blue eyes widened, and then the girl was shifting away, her instincts forcing their way past her stunned brain. A wary veil dropped over her sight as she surreptitiously evaluated their inner-city surroundings. A long alley bounded on both sides by tall buildings. Unknown location beyond. Seven-foot fence across the street. Area completely deserted at this time of night. His advantages: speed; preternatural strength; weapons of _youki_.

Sesshoumaru silently watched her add up all the factors to 'oh shit'.

She was looking almost frantically for an escape route; the former youkai lord found that he just couldn't allow that.

100 words.


	6. Baka

Disclaimer: Still lots and lots of no owning.

Baka

_I am an utter fool_, he thinks to himself. This must in fact be true, he reasons, because not only has he _not_ killed the human wench his half-brother used to drag around centuries ago, he is actually leading her through the night streets of Osaka with every intention of his home being their final destination. His face is impassive, as usual, but underneath there is a flurry of thoughts and feelings and several creative expletives shifting about. He does not know what possessed him to invite her - to insist that she accompany him - to his apartment. He only knows that when he first recognized her, felt his face matching her expression of stunned disbelief, a _need_ to make her stay gripped him. He smothered it well, of course; centuries of practice and effort kept his face smooth. He does not know what possessed her to agree to come with him. Perhaps it was something in the tone of his voice. Perhaps she was bored, or curious, or something.

She is irritatingly skittish, balking at his suggestion that he call for a taxi, refusing his offer of an early breakfast, jumping at the sounds of horns and brakes as the city begins to stir. Tension radiates from her, though they now walk in silence. The last time they saw each other, of course, they had been wary allies. That was more than five hundred years ago, though. She is undeniably human - how could she be walking with him, here in the 21st century, when he had known her in the Warring States Era? He would have answers, he decided. Once he had her secured in his home, he would interrogate her thoroughly.

No matter what answers he receives - he knows he will still be a fool.


	7. Brick

Brick

The brick facade of Sesshoumaru's apartment building is not particularly inviting. It stands between a building of concrete and a building of stucco, so prides itself on being the most dignified of its neighbors. But while dignified, it is not warm. White shutters stand sentry at the windows. There is no neatly-trimmed shrubbery to separate public from private. There are no expertly-placed trees to soften the lines and angles of the building. There are certainly no flowerboxes, or children's toys, or quirky outdoors decor. Nothing implies that anyone who lives within has any sense of permanence or belonging here.

Sesshoumaru leads Kagome up the concrete path to the pristine white front door, through neat, well-kept hallways, up four flights of stairs, into the apartment that takes up the entire fifth floor. Like the hallways and the stairwells, the apartment walls hold no evidence that someone lives here.

"Make yourself at home," Sesshoumaru says. He is not aware of Kagome's perception of the space he has occupied for the past twenty-some years. He shows her into the bedroom, where she drops her yellow sack in a corner. He can feel her eyes on him. "Use this room," he tells her. "The bathroom..." he indicates a door across the hall from the bedroom. He turns and exits, then turns back without looking her in the eye, "We will talk in the morning."


	8. Sleep

Sleep

Sesshoumaru dressed in his sleeping pants and entered the living room. Unlike the armchair and the two-seater sofa, the chaise lounge was uncharted territory, so he gave it the benefit of the doubt. He consigned himself to catching an hour's sleep on the awkward-looking furniture, but thought longingly of his comfortable bed. It was one of his favorite modern inventions. The mattress was a thick, soft, super-sized futon, wide enough for four people to sleep without touching; it rested on a ten-inch high metal platform. A vast improvement over the trees he'd slept against in the feudal era. He settled down to listen to the pattern of Kagome pacing across his bedroom, refusing to utilize the best piece of furniture in his home.

As dawn began creeping through the living room windows, he heard her slide down the wall, the fabric of her clothing scraping along the way. The movement ended in a sigh and a clanking of repositioned weapons, and then there was nothing more than her breath and nervous heartbeat. It was strange for him, to have someone besides Myouga invade his personal space. No one besides he had spent the night in this apartment since he'd bought it so long ago. And now here she was, this living, breathing human girl with her pulse fluttering in his sensitive ears. He tried to be annoyed and failed.

Not twenty peaceful minutes passed before she stood again and her footsteps betrayed her progress from hardwood to _tatami_ flooring. The _shoji_ door slid quietly open on its casters and she slipped inside to lean casually against the wall. "Hey," she whispered. Sesshoumaru slitted one golden eye open and fixed it upon her. "I'm not using it, so please take your bed back."

"Do humans not normally sleep in beds?"

"Yes, they do," she snapped. "I'm just not used to sleeping that way anymore. I'll sleep sitting up."

He stood somewhat gracefully (if not entirely so, it was due to the very odd shape of the modern chaise lounge) and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Very well," he said, and she preceded him from the room. He took the bed and she settled herself against the wall.

So it was that the former _youkai_ lord of half of Japan drifted off to the untamed scent and steady pulse of a former time-travelling cosmic joke. She followed his rhythmic breaths into sleep.


	9. A Different Woman

Change

He comments on the change in her scent. It is afternoon, and he is watching her eat lunch at the _kotatsu_. Despite her insistence that she wasn't hungry, he ordered by phone from a popular traditional restaurant a few blocks away. It's small and expensive and he had never eaten there. She refused to accompany him when he went to pick up the order, and he found himself barely resisting the urge to use his natural speed. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that she wouldn't be there when he got back, that all he would be left with was a lingering scent and an inexplicable memory.

"I didn't know it had changed." She shrugs as though this vital, personal part of her does not matter.

He comments on her mostly unchanged appearance. Her hair is wavy and long, but it is pulled back into a severe ponytail. He can't recall looking into her eyes before, but he is sure that they hadn't been that flat shade of ocean-grey. There are no faint creases marring her skin. She is untouched by time, much as he is, and he can't help but wonder why.

She doesn't reply at all, but her shoulders hunch slightly as though to protect herself. She consumes the rest of her _bento_ in silence.

He had awoken an hour earlier to a mirror version of his half-brother. Her back rested against the wall. The elbow of her sword arm, her left, was propped up on her raised left knee. Her right leg was folded neatly under her. She held the hilt of her _wakizashi_ loosely in her left hand, and its tip buried itself in a fine oak floorboard. She was asleep, but her face had not relaxed much during the night.

He abruptly realizes that she is not the same girl that had travelled with his half-brother five hundred years ago. She is just as brave, it seems, but the innocence and purity she'd carried like a banner seems to have been stripped away in the intervening years. Where had she been? What had happened to that vivacious girl? After Naraku's defeat, he could not remember having seen her again. He tries to recall what he had done directly after the dark _hanyou_ had been destroyed, but the memories of so long ago skitter away from him.

He does not comment on this important change.


	10. The Darkness in Her Heart

The Darkness in Her Heart

Once upon a not-so-distant past, a teenage girl of immense purity, although otherwise normal, was pulled down a well on her family's ancient shrine property. Five hundred years in the past, she tamed the feral heart of a spirit-dog. She gathered friends around her, inexorably, becoming the cement of a motley crew. A gruff_ hanyou_. A _kitsune_ child. A cursed monk. An orphaned slayer. They became her beloved feudal family. They travelled far and wide across their homeland, helping the innocent and eradicating evil, and they healed each other's festering wounds and were happy.

She alternately struggled with and nurtured her sacred powers, so that by the time they faced the ultimate evil together for the last time, she was no longer her group's weak link. Her time fighting and surviving and loving in the feudal era had tempered her childish heart and had given her life true meaning. As she conquered the darkness and made that one true wish, she was beautiful despite her anger, and overflowed with purity and love, all because Inuyasha was at her side. He'd come for her. He always did.

When that girl found herself in the wellhouse, in her family's arms, she thought that now, her life was perfect. And then she'd turned back to the well to see him sinking...sinking...sinking out of sight, out of her life.

The woman who hauled herself out of the dead well time and time again, who ignored broken ankle after sprained ankle after twisted ankle, who repeatedly tried to force her waning _miko_ energy into the dirt at the bottom of the well, was a broken rendition of that pure, beautiful girl. And after a while her family wasn't smiling and they didn't reach out to hug her as often.

No one mentioned high school. It wasn't compulsory anyways. No one mentioned a new boyfriend. The jewel had won; she was alone, trapped forever. No one mentioned the times she disappeared for days. No one mentioned the blood-stained clothing. No one mentioned the mirrors that started turning up broken. They couldn't know that when Kagome looked into mirrors, Kikyou looked back. They lived in a shrine to silence and memories.

It wasn't until she was mistaken for Souta's kid sister by his university friends that Kagome realized that fate's cruel lessons about love, and time, and loss were far from over.

And Inuyasha never came back.


	11. Curioser and Curioser

Curioser and Curioser

"What do you do?" Her question shakes him from his reverie.

"I own a company."

"Oh." She mulls that over. "Am I keeping you from your work?"

"I no longer directly oversee the business."

A frown mars her face. "Then what do you _do_?"

He has no good answer. He cannot tell her of the countless hours spent looking for Rin's face in the whorls of floorboards, of the journeys to what remains of their _shiro_, of the monthly meetings with the only _youkai_ left that remembered his life, his pride.

"You do not ask about Inuyasha," he informs her, as though she is not aware of her own reticence.

"No, I don't," she agrees, as though she is aware of his curiosity and denies it.

And he _is_ curious, he realizes. He wants to know how life had succeeded in draining her vast reservoir of joy. He wants to know why she is not in the least bit interested in knowing what had happened to her former lover. Mostly, he wants to know how she came to live so long, and why he had not known this secret when he had - Rin had - needed it centuries ago.


	12. Keep Her

Keep Her

Her scent dominates his home. That first afternoon, the human girl had _invaded_. She had touched every object, the spine of nearly every book, the furniture, even the walls, and now they exude a delicate waft of sweet scent. It is...irksome. This stark apartment no longer feels like it is his alone; her scent tangles with his on everything except the bed she still declines to use. Sesshoumaru finds himself purchasing new, fairly worthless objects on his brief departures to pick up food for her, just so she can touch more things, examine them, possess them with her scent. A winter coat. A lamp. A strange globe with white flakes floating inside it. Anything that catches his eye from windows on his way to whatever restaurant he happens to be heading towards. There is no kitchen in the apartment because he has never needed one, and so he orders in expensive food for this strange woman at every indication that she could possibly eat. He will not neglect her frail human needs; he learned that lesson long ago and learned it well.

She is bored. He can tell. By the second day, she picks up and examines items more frequently. She removes his dry histories from his shelves and flips through their introductions. She moves aimlessly from room to room. Her activity is disturbing. They are silent and move awkwardly around each other, two cold satellites.

He is preparing to go for her evening meal on the second day. She is sitting on the sofa as he buttons his coat. "You are a coward," he tells her. "You fear this city. This is why you stay."

"I do not fear the city."

"A coward and a liar." He knows she is neither of these things. But there is something _wrong _with her. His memory is not so short that it fails to remember his brother's loudmouthed wench. This insipid creature, mysterious as she may be, is so inanimate she may as well be dead. He tells her so and is gratified by the flash of anger in her eyes, and is not terribly surprised when she stands, hands defiantly placed on her hips.

"I'm going. We will eat there," she informs him. He wonders if she realizes that he had hoped for this reaction. Every time he leaves, he thinks of her gathering her few things and departing; he knows that in the stink of the city, her scent will disperse quickly and he will not be able to track her efficiently. He does not think about why it matters, one way or the other, if she stays or goes. He doesn't know why he feels he must keep her.


	13. For Honor

For Honor

The restaurant is a good one, but awkwardly intimate. A small lamp on each table is the only lighting; it is as if each table's patrons exist alone in their own circle of light. After ordering a light meal, Kagome shifts uncomfortably, peering around at couples all wrapped in warmth, leaning towards one another to talk softly. Sesshoumaru is leaning towards her, but as he has never done such an absurd thing before, he is not aware of it. It as if the slightest degree of gravity tugs him forward. Sesshoumaru is leaning, but Kagome is remote enough to not even notice. Their conversation is stilted as she examines the other occupants and the bottom of her wine flute. Instead of her face going slack and red as she drinks, her eyes becoming blurred and irresolute, she seems to harden and go very still, her eyes burning brighter with a furious sheen. It does not take long for him to fall silent in favor of studying her, abandoning their faltering conversation to its own devices.

She is on her fourth glass of champagne by the time she bends towards him and speaks to him freely, her grey eyes flat and intense. "I've tried before, you know," she confesses in a low hiss. Her expression remains meticulously blank, watching his eyes, weighing his reaction. "What you said before. That I might as well be dead."

"Hn."

"I got into a lot of fights," she continues. "After everything. I remember the moment it hit me, that it was all over. That Inuyasha wasn't coming back for me this time. That everything was gone. It was night when I went out, and there was a couple of men beating up a kid...I attacked them. I wanted them to hit me instead." Her lips lift and carve a hard arc across her slender face. "I wanted to _die_."

"You are still here." _You failed._

"Yes."

"To die in battle is the only honorable death." As if knowing this will repair the wasteland of her life.

"I am trying."

"You do not need to." He has not spoken so loquaciously in many years. Now that he has reason to speak, Sesshoumaru has discovered that his voice is deeper than he remembered it being, slower. "It will come, at the last," he sighs, "and you will welcome it. I will, also." He cannot confess to her his greatest fear, as she has confessed to him her greatest secret: that despite the stable _youkai _population, he will be unable to find a worthy opponent to end his life. That he will die an old, diseased dog, too weak to stand or to thump his own tail, worthless.


	14. Untitled

Untitled

Kagome is just intoxicated enough not to protest when Sesshoumaru hails a taxi in front of the classy restaurant. He had dismissed her original objections as ridiculous when setting out from his apartment – she'd tried to insist on walking - and she'd held herself stiffly erect in the center backseat the entire way to dinner.

She is distant and subdued on the ride home, which is no surprise.

Having taken a seat near the left door, she leans her forehead against the cold glass of the window and watches the lights blur. He is facing forward but out of the corner of his eye watches her curl one sleek, black-clad leg around the other and sigh, her breath misting the window.

When they arrive in front of his apartment, Sesshoumaru holds open the car door for her. Her voice is almost a whisper when she says, "You're different. When I thought of what must have happened to you since then-" and she refuses to elaborate on the concept of 'then', "I would never have pictured you taking a taxi home from a restaurant. This is...this is pretty weird." She turns, and he can just see the tip of her twisted smile. When he doesn't respond, she continues, "Seeing you there on that street-I thought you were going to kill me. Were you thinking of it?"

"No," he replies. Maybe someday he will tell her that the only thing he'd thought of when he saw her was that there was someone else out there who _knew_. And that he'd suddenly felt something strange, something that had bloomed in his chest and that felt an awful lot like hope. He says, as an afterthought: "I thought that perhaps I am a fool."

He is startled by her sudden, tinkling laugh.


	15. Also Untitled

Untitled Again

Kagome's oversized yellow pack was loaded to bursting, sitting on the kitchen counter like a threat. Her mother stared past Kagome's right ear - a disconcerting habit she'd picked up and employed regularly throughout the last seven years. Kagome felt as though she wasn't really there. But then, she supposed she hadn't been, much. Her throat worked with the effort of bringing forth the words. She had to get this out, before she went.

"If he," she forced out. "Will you..." She choked. How long since she'd spoken to her mother? Longer than she had ever thought possible. She didn't speak much, these days. She thought of herself and her friends exchanging gossip at WacDonald's in middle school, before she'd been yanked into a well and changed forever. How strange, she thought, to have been that person once. "If he comes," and her voice cracks again, "ask him to wait. Please wait."

Her first assignment was to investigate reports of odd, animal-like maulings in Peru, and to bring down any rogue _youkai _she found in the process. Her trip was to last three months or until she produced results, and the thought of being elsewhere when Inuyasha finally arrived terrified her. So what if Inuyasha was seven years past due. She was supposed to wait. Wait until Inuyasha came to pick her up for more shard hunting, wait for him to rescue her after the umpteenth kidnapping, wait for him to get over Kikyou. Waiting was definitely her thing. She was beginning to suspect that the Jewel might not have cursed her after all. Perhaps it was a blessing for her body to be held in stasis. She liked to think that the Jewel was helping her to wait for Inuyasha. But something had to fill the years in which she waited, so when an aging man in the robes of a Buddhist monk had lifted her broken body out of the ditch she'd been cast into after yet another unsuccessful fight, she'd been open to suggestions.

Kagome's mother, wearily eyeing the wilted petunias on the windowsill, nodded her assent.


	16. The Kindest Lie

The Kindest Lie

"I think I'm ready now. To know." It is dark and she is drunk. Her body is curled stiff against the wall. Sesshoumaru sinks into the mattress of his too-big bed and watches her mouth move in the dim light from the streetlamp outside their bedroom window.

"Inuyasha died an honorable death, in battle," Sesshoumaru lies smoothly. He has spent the last several days composing his answers to these questions, trying to find the one that would injure her weak human emotions the least. "I was present. It was instantaneous, and I believe he felt no pain." Of course the mindless beast had not felt pain, but he will spare her the image of Inuyasha's final bloodlust, the women, children, men alike lying broken in his wake. He will spare her the knowledge that in his final moments, Inuyasha had forgotten her. That he had been the one to strike his half-blooded brother down: a mercy killing. He still possesses the pieces of the shattered Tetsusaiga in one of the many wall niches in his apartment; in the centuries since it had broken, he has been unable to find a _youkai_ swordsmith skilled enough to repair it.

"How long after...?"

"A little over a century after Naraku's demise," he lies again. A _youkai_ counts centuries like humans count years, he reasons, so he substitutes one measurement for the other as necessary. "He was strong, for a _hanyou_." This is not a lie.

She is quiet except for the deep, forced rhythm of her breathing. She is not like Rin, who would have had no compunction about displaying her sorrow. Rin's way had been acceptable, for she was only a human woman, weaker than many even by human standards, and one that was not exposed to the presence of sorrow often. But for one who is truly strong, what one feels must be forced down into the deep secret places of one's mind. One must not show weakness. Sesshoumaru wonders where and when this young woman learned such a valuable, terrible lesson.

"I knew, of course," Kagome breathes. "That he was dead. I told them when to find me. Shippo and Inuyasha. And they didn't come."

He looks over at her, fixes his attention on the bleak angles of her face. _This is human suffering_, he thinks, and then, _Perhaps_ youkai _have more in common with humans than anyone knows_.


	17. Awake, Not Drowning

Awake, Not Drowning

_Sesshoumaru flails through the sea, paws churning the salt water, thick white pelt dragging him down. He is wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to cross the open ocean to Kyushu island in his _youkai_ form. It is winter and he is freezing and the ocean threatens to swallow him with every stroke. But he is looking for his lost bone, and no ocean can stand in his way. He will search and search until he can hold it safe once more, because it is the only thing that ever really mattered._

_He opens his great maw to take a breath and instead a wave crashes down his throat, and he chokes and splutters and…wakes up._

The scent of sea water smothers him as he tries to orient himself. Awake, not drowning. And he realizes the bitter salty smell is coming from Kagome, who is scrunched in a ball quite unlike her usual sleeping position and crying quietly into her sleeve.

Sesshoumaru takes a deep breath (awake, not drowning), reaches his clawed hand out from under the covers of his bed and clasps hers. Kagome offers him a crooked, watery smile; it is the most whole he has felt since Rin died. Awake, possibly drowning. He smiles back.


	18. Stale

18

When Sesshoumaru wakes in the morning, Kagome is gone. Her few possessions are missing and her scent is stale.

He holds onto the belief that she has gone out for some reason and will be returning soon – a trip to the grocery store, perhaps. A _youkai_ that she needs to fight. A particularly long walk that somehow requires her atrocious yellow backpack and her slayer clothing.

When the sun rises the next day and Kagome has not made an appearance, Sesshoumaru shatters the window she sleeps under – slept under – with his fist, then punches a hole in the wall for good measure. And then he crawls back into bed and doesn't bother to get again for three days.


End file.
